


Off Beat Desicions

by Enderon



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: and gnomes, he just goes blank, scanlan doesnt have really emotional outbursts and honestly it kind of scares me, so small, take care of your bards, too small
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7818823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enderon/pseuds/Enderon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Never let me be that stupid again,” he insisted, laughing at their somewhat confused faces, “Never let me make life threatening decisions while grief stricken and off my game. Makes for very poor choices.”</p>
<p>------------------------</p>
<p>In which Scanlan is afraid, desperate, and in grief, and as a result makes a very bad decision.<br/>Ep.64 spoiler WARNING</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off Beat Desicions

**Author's Note:**

> This was self-indulgent for something I thought about writing a bit ago, and certain things I wanted to write after the last episode.

Scanlan lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with dull eyes.

He wished he could cry, but all his tears had been shed long ago. 

He wished he could scream, but he couldn’t find the voice within him. 

So, he just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, as if something would magically happen and everything would be right. Everything would be as it should be. 

He just couldn’t understand,  _ why? Why? WHY?!  _

_ Why had he so badly insisted they go to Draconia? Why had he gone so far as to insult Grog, in a manner he himself knew to be extremely below himself? Did he know? Did a part of him know about Tiberius?  _

He just couldn’t understand why he had made them go there, had almost gotten them captured, had almost given Whitestone away. Had made them face the reality of their friend’s demise. 

The truth of the matter, is that Scanlan Shorthalt, gnome bard extraordinaire, had been terrified. 

When he had caught sight of Vorugal and his army flying straight towards the city, his heart had dropped to the bottom of his feet.

_ Only so long ago they had brought this city back from the brink of destruction. Would it now be torn into nothing but a smoldering ruin? _

_ Only so long ago they had saved these people from terror and given them hope to live again. Would their lives now be cut short before they could properly enjoy this freedom? _

_ Only so long ago he had promised his daughter that he would live to see her again. Would he fall in battle, protecting a city thousands of miles away, never to keep that promise? _

Scanlan had been terrified, and that terror had led to desperation. 

There had been a chance, a very miniscule chance, of a way to take down one of the dragons. Of a way to destroy one of the three remaining monstrosities that terrorized their lives and destroyed their homes. 

In Scanlan’s desperation, he had grasped onto that small amount of chance, and found he could not let go. 

They HAD to go Draconia. They HAD to kill the white dragon.

And the fear and desperation, only led to clumsiness. A small slip of the tongue, that could have disastrous consequences. A small slip of the tongue, and he possibly could have signed the fate of all of Whitestone. 

Finally, unable to cry or scream, Scanlan raised his arms and whacked himself in the face. He did that repeatedly, over and over and over again, until his breath was gone and his face and hands were bruised and bloody.

And as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, catching his breath, pain flashing across his face and hands, an idea came to him.

An idea, formed from an idea of Grog’s.

\----------------------------------------------

The dining room was deathly silent when Scanlan walked in. Nobody spoke, and nobody ate. 

The other members of Vox Machina, gathered around the table, could only stare down, unappetizingly, at the food before them. 

The grief was too fresh to feast.

Only one person looked up when Scanlan walked into the room. Getting to her feet, Keyleth stalked forward to loom over him with a look in her eyes that he’d never seen. 

They stared at each other for several moments, before the half-elf’s face contorted in rage.

“Why?” She whispered, balling her hands into trembling fists, “Why did you make us go?”

The others were looking at them now, their attention gained by Keyleth’s initial movement. 

“Tell me!” Keyleth yelled, steping forward a little so that Scnalan had to stpe bakc not to be knocked over, “ Why did you make us go!? Why did you insist that we just  **had** to go to Draconia!?” 

He stared up at her with a blank expression on his face.

“We didn’t have to know!” She sobbed, tears finally streaking down her face, her whole body trembling, “We didn’t have to know. We could have stayed ignorant, and hopeful.” Her voice was now a mournful whisper, as she looked on him now with a look of great sorrow.

He could only reply with a look from dull eyes.

“.......It should have been you.” Suddenly she turned on her heel and ran from the room, Vax jumping to his feet and giving chase. Vex stood, but did not move from her place, the others deciding to remain where they were. Vax could take care of her.

They all turned to look at Scanlan, and Scanlan turned to look at them. 

They did not look angry, but there were no looks of sympathy. 

“Percy,” he finally spoke, meeting eyes with the noble gunsmith, “Could I possibly speak with you?”

\----------------------------------------------

“I came to you, of everyone, because I knew, out of everyone on the team, that I could trust you not to talk me out of this.”

Percy nodded, looking down at the gnome with a flash of curiosity. 

Here was this crash, self-absorbed, over sexualized, scoundrel of a bard, offering himself up as a spy. Offering up his own life for the sake of the others. 

“Well, well, Shorthalt,” Percy laughed a little, though it was not out of amusement, “You never cease to amaze me……. What do you need from me for this to work?”

“Two things, only two things,” Scanlan said earnestly, holding up two fingers, “Keyleth’s scrying stone. Can you get that for me?”

“I believe it would be easy enough.” Percy agreed, nodding to himself, though not liking the idea of taking such a useful instrument from Keyleth, “What is the other?”

Scanlan dropped his hand, and seemed unable to speak for several moments. Finally he cleared his throat, and looked up at Percy with those dull eyes.

“I want you to tell the others, I’m sorry.”

\----------------------------------------------

The next morning, the party was gathering once more at the Sun Tree. They had agreed to allow the whole previous day for grief and mourning, and were now, relatively, ready to continue with their journey. 

Everyone seemed to be accounted for, except one person.

“Where’s Scanlan?” Vex’ahlia asked aloud, ever the one to notice such things first. 

“Is he still asleep?” Vax’ildan wondered, looking like he was about to rush back to the castle, “I didn’t see him at breakfast this morning.”

“Maybe he’s saying goodbye to Pike still?” Grog suggested, looking in the direction of the temple.

Keyleth said nothing, merely standing with her hand on the Sun tree and her eyes closed in concentration.

Seeing that now was as opportune a time as any, Percy raised his hands to gain the attention of his four present companions. 

“Scanlan, will not be coming with us.” He said, his voice even so as not to betray the conflict currently whirling about in his brain.

“What do you mean not coming with us?” Vex’ahlia’s eyes narrowed and she stepped closer to Percy, a truly confused look on her face.

“He ain’t whimpin out on us is e?” Grog’s eyes narrowed as well, though his was a look of anger. He seemingly had not forgiven the gnome for his insult two days prior. 

“Scanlan will not be joining us, because he is currently on another mission.” Percy took a deep breathe, as he finally broke the news, “Our companion bard, has set out to infiltrate Emon.”

Keyleth whipped her head up, and stared at him with equal confusion and horror on her face as the others.

“What?” Vex’ahlia whispered, looking into Percy’s eyes and knowing he spoke the truth. 

“Yes, he has gone to Emon to spy on Thordak for us…… He was quite adamant on doing it,” the noble turned towards Keyleth with a gentle look, “ He wanted you to know that it was not your words that made him do this. He had already come to this decision before you said what you said. He does not want you to blame yourself.” She raised a hand to her mouth as tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. 

“He said he’ll try to send messages, but if he can’t you can at least scry on him for-” Percy stopped as Vex’ahlia placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, looking up at him with a sorrowful expression. 

None of them were listening right now.

“We’re falling apart.” Vax’ildan whispered mournfully, wrapping an arm around Keyleth and pulling her close.

“S’fuckin bullshit.” Grog mumbled. He was trying to discreetly wipe tears from his eyes.

“He isn’t dead,” Percy insisted, though there was little strength to it, “He will succeed.”

“He better.”

\----------------------------------------------

Over the next several weeks, Scanlan’s mission proved to a useful component in the war against the Chroma Conclave. Through his occasional messages and Keyleth’s scrying, Vox Machina was able to keep track of the dragons, as well as develop a plan of attack.

In that time, they managed to retrieve three of the remaining four vesitges. Percy used the magical-devouring properties of Cabal’s Ruin to defeat the goristro Yenk and retrieve the Spire of Conflux. Keyleth then took up the staff and was able to control the elementals of the fire plane to retrieve the Plate of the Dawnmartyr for Pike. As they sought it out, they had come to a unanimous decision that the quest for Whisper was just too dangerous, and they were already pushing their luck with having retrieved seven of the eight, knowing their luck.

They decided that now they could strike. 

Only, there was a slight problem.

Scanlan had done his job as a spy well, very well indeed. He did what he had always done best, and lied and charmed his way into being one of Thordak’s ‘favorite subjects’. The Cinder King had found his music, quick wit, and jibing words to extremely entertaining, and was seemingly fooled as to the gnome’s true loyalties. 

The dragon was fooled, and let many secrets loose in the company the bard.

But, a few weeks prior to the day of attack, Keyleth lost her connection with Scanlan. She could no longer scry and find him. She held out hope that it was just a momentary thing, and tried again and again, every day, until only a week remained until the day of attack. Still no connection.

The council and all of their allies feared the worst.

But Vox Machina refused to give up hope on their friend, their family. They’d already lost one member of their party, they couldn’t lose another. 

So they set off for Emon, to bring home their bard.

\----------------------------------------------

“What if the others were right? What if this is pointless?” Percy suggested, as the six of them caught their breaths in the burnt out husk of a building, “Scanlan might be dead, and we might now be walking right into the heart of Thordak’s domain for no reason.”

“It’s not for no reason,” Vex’ahlia whispered to him sharply, running her fingers over the amulet around her neck, “We’re here because there’s still a chance Scanlan could be alive, and that’s more than enough reason for me.”

“He would want to come if it were any of us.” Pike added, nodding her head at Vex’s words. She closed her eyes and rested her hand on her holy symbol, raising her head skywards in silent prayer. She missed him, with his cocky grin and and silly songs. She missed him so much. 

“We’ve spent enough time resting, we need to keep going,” Keyleth insisted, rising quickly to her feet, “Every moment we waste is another moment he could be in danger.” Of all of them, Keyleth had been the most adamant about going to find Scanlan. Despite his instance, she had still felt great guilt weighing on her conscience since the day he left. She had not truly meant what she said, and had intended to apologize to him as soon as she saw him again, but it was too late. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for the current situation. 

The others agreed, Percy sighing as he too agreed to move on, letting his care of his friend outweigh his logical caution. Caution be damned, Scanlan was family, and Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo iii had lost far too much family to loose anymore.

They moved as quickly and quietly as they could through the streets of the city they had once known as home, Vav’ildan and Vex’ahlia leading the way as usual. They were naturally on guard, but all were so anxious to find their friend, that may mercy be given to any creature that even so much as attempted to stop them. 

Finally, they come to a large, slightly destroyed building with strange runes drawn around the foundation. They figure, it wouldn’t hurt to check. 

The twins snuck inside, asking the others to hide out in the building next door until they had scoped the place for traps. Once in the building, they moved quickly through the shadows, evading any possible eyes or ears. Following a flight of stairs downwards, they discovered a room guarded by two of those disgusting lizard people. 

The guards were quickly and easily disposed of. 

Cautiously, and with trepidation, Vav’ildan opened the door and stepped inside. 

It was pitch black within the room, the light from the hall illuminating only a small bit of it. But as the two half-elves squinted into the gloom, a soft and almost unrecognizable voice spoke up.

“Vex……..Vax?” Though his usually smooth and melodious voice was ragged and scratchy, one who had grown so accustomed to it could never forget that voice. In the direction of the voice, they could just barely make out a tiny figure, moving. 

“Scanlan?” Vex’ahlia asked, her voice trembling as Vax’ildan went into the hall and returned with a torch, “Is that you?”

“Who……. else could it…….be?” He croaked out, as the torchlight illuminated him. 

At seeing their jovial friend’s appearance, both Vex and Vax could feel tears immediately swell in their eyes.

Scanlan had always been small, even for a gnome, but curled up in a dark corner with one leg bloody and bent at an awkward angle, he looked smaller than he ever had before. He wore no shirt, letting them see his individual ribs and the way his skin seemed to sag from the bones, trembling in the cold of the dark underground. His hair, usually so notably well kept and brushed to a perfect shine, hung limp, dull, and matted in his face and across his shoulders, the mousy brown color now dusty. He looked up at them from a dirt covered and bloodied face, with brown eyes that, for the first time since that dreadful day in Draconia, shined.

“Oh Scanlan.” Vex’ahlia wailed, rushing forward and wrapping him up in a close embrace. Vax’ildan followed close behind, wrapping himself around the two of them. 

The gnome seemed shocked for a moment, before smiling a little and wrapping his arms around them in return, hugging as tightly as possible.

“I knew…….. I knew you’d come for me.” He whispered.

“Guys,” Vax’ildan spoke into his earring, noticing the missing flesh and mass of blood where Scanlan’s once was, “We found him, we’ve got him. Come downstairs,  we think it’s safe.” 

The rest of Vox Machina wasted no time in making their way to the subterranean prison. As soon as Pike showed up in the doorway and caught glimpse of how bloodied and injured Scanlan was, she rushed forward with a healing spell on her lips. She grabbed his hand, and the bard felt a familiar warmth spread throughout his body, as his leg righted itself and his some other odd end injuries closed. He was still weak, and there was still much pain from things Pike had not the strength to fix, but he squeezed her hand and gave her a warm and affectionate smile. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around in him, tears falling from her eyes.

Both were a little startled as much larger arms wrapped around them both, lifting them up in a familiar way. Scanlan laughed a little as a blubbering Grog tried to tell him just how much he missed him and how he wasn't mad that Scanlan had called him a coward and that he hadn't really meant it when he suggested he be a spy and that it was so lonely without his lady favor buddy and that he'd missed his weight on his shoulder when Pike had stayed in Whitestone and he had neither of his little gnome buddies with him and how Scanlan was his best friend after Pike and that he never wanted him to leave and go off making them think he’d died again. Of course it all came out an unintelligible, blubbering mess. But Scanlan could make out the sentiment, and patted the barbarian on the cheek. 

He met eyes with Percy, and the nobleman smiled.

“I told them,” he said, gesturing to the others, “What you wanted me to tell them… in time.”

“Thank you.” Scanlan whispered, his voice still too croaky despite the healing.

Finally, Keyleth stepped forward, close enough that she could easily touch him, but kept her hands clasped in front of her. She looks down at him, with tears running down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, meeting green eyes with brown, “What I said to you, the morning before, I-” Scanlan held up a hand, silencing the ashari princess. He stared at her for several moments, before giving her a warm smile.

“You didn’t mean it,” he whispered, reaching out a small, trembling hand and grabbing hers, “People say a lot of things they don't really mean when they're mad, or scared, or sad. Gods know I have plenty of times. And guess what, after what I had pulled, I deserved to hear that. I knew it wasn't true, but I deserved to hear it, and you deserved to say it……. I guess what I’m saying is, there’s nothing to forgive, because there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Keyleth sobbed, and surged forward to wrap her arms around Scanlan, Grog moving the gnome a bit so she could completely wrap around him. Scanlan smiled fondly and hugged her back.

\----------------------------------------------

Their exit of the city was far faster and sloppier than their entrance. They still tried to be as stealthy as possible, but all agreed they just wanted to get out fast.

There was almost a bad situation, when one of the lizard men jumped out in front of them, brandishing a sword.

But Grog, Scanlan clasped tightly in one hand, his war hammer in the other, took it out in one rage fueled strike. 

There were no other incidents as they made their way to the treeline outside the city. Calling on the power of her staff, Keyleth opened a portal through a large oak, and they stepped back out into Whitestone. 

Scanlan stared at the buildings and people of this town he’d helped to save, of this town he’d feared he’d never see again. And, for the first time the rest of Vox Machina had ever seen, broke into tearful sobs, raising an arm to cover his face. 

They all looked at him, concern and worry written on their faces.

“I thought I was done for,” he choked out between sobs, “I thought I’d never see this place again. I was so stupid to do that, to go there.” He suddenly sat up in Grog’s grasp, a huge smile on his face as he looked at his friends, tears still pouring from his eyes.

“Never let me be that stupid again,” he insisted, laughing at their somewhat confused faces, “Never let me make life threatening decisions while grief stricken and off my game. Makes for very poor choices.”

Realizing what he was asking of them finally, the others looked between each other and nodded, smiling.

“So, what you’re saying is,” Percy piped up, smirking towards the bard with a twinkle in his eyes, “You were ‘off beat’?”

Scanlan stared at him for a moment, before a smirk of his own appeared on his face.

“Gods that was terrible. You should let a pro show you how it’s done.”


End file.
